


Small Refractions

by Ravvi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Depression, Fluff, Massive amounts of angst, Other, Rape Recovery, Self Harm, Swapfell Papyrus - Freeform, Trauma Recovery, Underswap Asgore, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, nonsexual papgore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravvi/pseuds/Ravvi
Summary: Commission for insanecartoonnerd, who requested a recovery scenario following the events inAuditionIn short:Stretch, Blue, and several other versions of the skellies were kidnapped and forced into sexual slavery.  In this version (might end up changing if I ever pick up Audition again XD ) Stretch and Blue were enslaved for three or four months before they escaped and destroyed that universe's doors to other universes.  That universe's Chara is effectively trapped there, with no way to come after them or hurt them ever again.Unfortunately, Black was the one who destroyed the gates, and he died shortly after.  Slim, Stretch, and Blue have all ended up getting taken in by Asgore in a benevolent Swapverse, and Stretch would like nothing better than for Slim to get out of his life forever.Mind the tags and be extra careful for self harm, depression, and suicide attempt warnings.  Stay safe  ^_^





	Small Refractions

**Stretch, Day 1**

“And this will be your room.”

Stretch automatically scanned the corners of the ceiling and the neatly-made, twin-sized bed.  No cameras, the bed’s headboard looked reassuringly flimsy, and…

His eyes caught the window and he stared, unable to look away.  Sunlight, _real_ sunlight was pouring through the glass, so vibrant and warm that it was almost a physical presence.  A pebble-sized, crystal prism was dangling in the light, refracting splashes of brilliant rainbow across the cream-coloured walls.  The sash was open just a crack, letting cool, sweet smelling air ruffle the curtains.

It was open…

“You’ll probably want to settle in,” Asgore was saying.  His voice sounded distant, even though he was standing nearby.  “There is some clothing in the closet and towels in the bathroom.  I will be in the kitchen if you need me.”

He raised a hand to pat Stretch on the shoulder and Stretch cringed, automatically forcing himself to freeze in place as heat and pressure surged into his pelvic girdle.  Asgore immediately pulled his hand back with an apologetic smile.

“My apologies, it’s a very old habit.  I will see you soon,” he said kindly, then left the room.

Stretch watched him go, then turned back around to the window and the little rainbow-maker. After a moment, he impulsively closed the sash, locked it tightly, and drew the curtains closed.  That done, he slowly backed away until his fibulas ran into the bed and his knees buckled, sending him tailbone-first onto the springy mattress. 

Well.  That was convenient. 

He turned over, then crawled under the covers and pulled a pillow over his head.  The darkness and closeness felt nice, even though he still smelled terrible after escaping the Royally Fucked Up Universe.  The space between his legs was also annoyingly damp and sensitive, but that was nothing new.  Besides, the effort of finding a shower, getting out of his stinking clothes or even jerking off didn’t really feel worth it right now.  He just wanted to sleep…

 

 

**Slim, Day 2**

_I’m gonna give you all of my love,_

_Nobody matters like you._

Slim buried his head in his hands, whispering a song he only half remembered under his breath.  He would have put his earbuds in, but they’d been lost in the escape.  He needed them now.  A tight, panicked feeling had crept into his chest and settled there, clinging to his thoughts like poison and making it hard to breathe.  He couldn’t make it stop… 

_She tells him ‘you’re life, ain’t gon’ be nothing like my life_

_You’re gonna grow and have a good life.  I’m gonna do what I’ve got to do.’_

Shakily, he placed a fingertip over the smooth nub of plastic implanted just over his accoustic meatus.  He would never hear anything over the earpiece again.  Chara was gone, and all the doors leading to that universe were closed.  They were gone and he…

The closet door slowly slid back and Slim whimpered, curling his arms tightly over his head.  He was sorry, he hadn’t meant to make them mad, please just punish him and get it over with, PLEASE-

“Slim?” Asgore’s voice was soft and calm.  “Slim, why are you hiding in the closet?”

“I-I-I-I,”  Slim’s throat closed up and he shook his head.  “S-s-sorry…”

“Oh dear,” Asgore murmured, then seated himself on the floor just outside the door with a soft groan.  “You look very upset.”

Slim nodded mutely, trembling in place as he pressed his claws into the ridge of an old scar on his left arm.  Harder, harder...

“Can you tell me why?”

Slim shook his head.

“Why not?”

Slim curled in on himself and took a deep, shuddering breath as the emotions that the simple question had prompted threatened to overwhelm him.  Black was dead.  His brother was dead, and it _hurt_.  It hurt, and he couldn’t make it stop, and he felt so, _achingly_ alone…

“Slim, you’re hurting yourself.”

Slim flinched as a large hand firmly enveloped his right hand and pulled it away from his body.  Dark, sticky marrow was dripping onto the floor of the closet, and his arm felt hot and tingly.

He tried to apologize, but the words couldn’t make it out of his throat.

Asgore’s grip was gentle, but firm as he pulled Slim out of the closet and brought him into the kitchen.

“There, now we have a bit more light,” the old boss monster murmured, dabbing at the furrows Slim had clawed into his radius and ulna.  Despite Asgore’s care, they stung sharply, like his own body was reprimanding him for damaging it.  Slim bent over his arm, shoulders heaving with heavy sobs that made his skull ache and chest burn.  He muffled them with his free hand, holding as still as possible to make it easier for Asgore to apply bandages.  He’d inconvenienced the old monster enough already.

“May I give you a hug?” Asgore asked once Slim’s arm was taken care of.  Slim nodded shakily, and Asgore gave him a very gentle hug.  It felt much nicer than Slim had been expecting, and to his dazed surprise, a little of the tension eased.  After a moment, Asgore pulled away and began making tea, humming to himself as he gathered mugs and poured water into a black, iron kettle.  Slim sat numbly in one of the kitchen chairs, so exhausted that he could barely think.

He’d fallen asleep before the tea was ready.

 

**Stretch, Day 10**

After a solid hour of effort, Blue had finally coaxed him to go exploring outside.  And though he’d never admit it, Stretch was glad that he’d given in.  The sun was shining, and Asgore’s neatly-tended garden was full of early summer blooms.  They’d wandered around the property for a while, then flopped down against the side of the house to bask contentedly in the sun. 

“I wonder if Edge and Red made it back ok,” Blue murmured, eyesockets closed and face tilted up into the light.  “Everything happened so fast there right at the end.  I don’t think I even said goodbye.”

“I think they’ll show up again,” Stretch mused, fingering his pocket.  The ancient cellphone Edge had given him was still there, pressed lightly against his femur.  “Shared trauma, you know?  It’s supposed to be great for making friends.”

Blue snorted, idly picking several long blades of grass and gathering them in his palm.  “Yes, and it’s the trauma part that bothers me.  I would have felt better if they’d come with us instead of going back to their own universe.”

“They’ve got each other,” Stretch yawned, watching lazily as Blue began to weave his grass into a small, circular mat.  “And there’s no place like home to make you feel…at home, I guess.”

“Do any of us really have a home anymore?” Blue asked softly, picking a few more blades of grass and adding them to his craft project.  Stretch silently pressed his chin to his knees, staring out at the forest that bordered the edge of Asgore’s property.  Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to think about their home universe, or what was left of it.  Chara’s slavers had been…efficient. 

Besides, this universe was so, wonderfully similar to their own in all the right ways.  Toriel was the queen, monsters had reached the surface, Alphys was the captain of the Royal guard and Undyne was the Royal Scientist.  There wasn’t even a native Sans and Papyrus around to confuse things.  It was almost too good to be true, but fuck it.  Stretch felt like he was due some good luck by now.

“Maybe we should get a home,” Stretch said wistfully after a long silence.  “I bet there’s houses around here we could rent or something.”

Blue nodded thoughtfully.  “It would be nice to have my own space.  Asgore is wonderful, but…

Stretch snickered, then continued in a deep, overly affected tone.  “Go to bed now, young one.  Have you brushed your teeth?  Taken a bath?  Did you remember to wash between all of your vertebrae?”

“Let me get you a cup of tea,” they recited in unison,  then broke out into giggles halfway through.

“What about Slim?” Blue asked casually.

Stretch groaned and clenched his fists in his pockets, suddenly feeling cold despite the sunshine.  “What about him?” he asked, trying to match Blue’s casual tone.  It was hard to do with your teeth clenched, but he felt like he’d given it an honest effort.

“Slim…”  Blue sighed, then continued weaving his little mat, adding new blades of grass as it grew.  “Slim needs a home too,” he said softly without looking up.

Stretch glared down at the dirt between his shoes and curled his hands into fists.  “He needs an early grave, is what he needs.”

“Brother…”

“Don’t.”

“Pappy…”

“DON’T.”

Papyrus pushed himself to his feet and irritably stalked away from the house.  Blue might be the world’s most forgiving monster, but Stretch wasn’t so kind.  It was bad enough that he had to share a house with that disgusting rapist.  There was no way in fucking hell he’d ever consider it with his own home. 

Not for as long as he was still fucking alive.

 

**Slim, Day 12**

The dining room went silent the moment he came in. 

“Slim, it’s so good to see you!  Are you going to join us?” Asgore beamed welcomingly.  “There’s a spot here.”  He indicated a chair at the small, round table between him and Blue.  Slim took a tentative step forward, then hesitated when Stretch loudly pushed back from the table and gave him a venomous glare. 

“Brother,” Blue murmured angrily.  Stretch silently turned away and glowered down at his food, shoulders hunched and jaw set.  Slim tensed, then angrily took a step forward, fully intending to drag Stretch out of the room, tie him up, and then force him to sit on his lap while he hand-fed him everything on his plate.  Chara would want to punish him for showing insubordination, but if they hadn’t seen it on the cameras yet he could play it off…

“Slim...?” he heard Blue ask nervously.

Slim froze, standing half in and half out of the room.  Chara was gone.  Chara was gone, and his brother was dead.  None of them were slaves anymore, and he…

The ease with which he’d slipped back into his old role sickened him.

“Not hungry,” Slim mumbled, then turned around and left the room. 

 

**Slim, Day 20**

Slim looked up in vague surprise as Stretch stepped in front of him, effectively blocking the narrow hallway between his bedroom and the bathroom at the end of the hall.

“What?” he asked tiredly.

Stretch only stared at him, working his jaw as though he was trying to force himself to say something.  There was a dusting of orange across his cheekbones and his hands were thrust deeply into his pockets, but his eyelights were oddly bright and large in his narrow sockets.  Angry then, but aroused too.  Slim wasn’t surprised.  Under Chara’s command, he’d spent most of their time together breaking down Stretch’s boundaries, training his sensitivity and rewarding every hint of sexual responsiveness and compliance with pleasure.  Chara had wanted a helpless toy that was easy to turn on.  Slim had delivered.

“Why are you still here?” Stretch finally demanded through gritted teeth.  “Don’t you have somewhere else to go?”

Slim looked back at him, not bothering to hide the apathy and exhaustion that seemed to have become his new norm.  “No.”

Stretch looked a little surprised at that, then absolutely furious.  “Then go fucking find somewhere else.  Nobody wants you around here.”

Slim could believe that, but he doubted that that was why Stretch was talking to him right now.

“What do you want from me?”  he asked softly, letting just a hint of anger sharpen his tone.  “Seriously.  What do you want.  Do you even know?”  He paused a moment, then slowly shook his head.  “I don’t think you do.”

Stretch had started shaking, and Slim hated that he knew that meant that Stretch was scared.  A part of him wanted to pull him into a hug, rub the backs of his hands, do any one of the hundreds of little things that he knew Stretch would find soothing.

He knew better than to try.

Silently, Slim pushed past him, trying not to notice as Stretch shied away to keep from being touched.  His cheekbones flared bright orange as Slim came close, and his bones were noticeably warm.  He was still shaking though.

At the end of the hall, Slim paused, sighed heavily, and half-turned his head.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.  For everything,” he said, voice breaking on the last word, wishing there was some way he could reach inside Stretch’s soul and fix all the pain and damage.  To somehow make it all better.

 “Not sorry enough,” Stretch spat, then stomped off down the hall and out the front door, slamming the door closed behind him.

 

**Stretch, Day 24**

Crowds were better than single people, for some stupid reason.  Half a dozen whimsum could squeeze past him in one of Ebott City’s narrow streets, but the second Asgore tried to pat him on the shoulder, magic surged down his legs in a panicked effort to make him wet for whatever fresh hell his body had been trained to expect.  Luckily, job interviews required minimal physical contact, and Muffet had never been much for conversation anyway.  She’d hired him on the spot, and immediately put him to work delivering take-out orders.  Half the day later, he was 60g richer, tired, and extremely satisfied with himself.

Blue knocked on his door while he was working out some math with the help of a ridiculously large calculator Asgore had let him borrow.  He wanted to figure out how long he’d have to work at Muffet’s job before they’d be able to afford the down payment on a house, but he’d never quite gotten the hang of how interest rates were supposed to work…

“How did it go?” Blue asked cheerfully, tapping the prism in the window to make rainbow sparkles dance across the walls.

“Not bad?  I got hired and its easy work, but it doesn’t pay a ton,” Stretch mused.  “Bet I could take another job though.  Speed things up a bit.”

Blue gave him a look.  “Speed things up?  Brother, you’ve only been employed for seven hours, what could you possibly be speeding up?”

“Getting a house,” Stretch replied, looking at his calculations with a wince.  He would need a VERY good loan if he wanted to get out of Asgore’s house in less than a month.  Was a 0.00001% interest rate even a thing?  “Or maybe an apartment?”  He looked up with a pleading expression.  “If I have to pick one more wet, soggy furball out of the kitchen drain, I may lose my sanity.”

“You have never had to do any such thing,” Blue retorted, trying to sound serious as Stretch leaned backward over his desk chair with a piteous expression. 

“The last one was awful.  It broke apart before I could get it into the garbage.  Things got hairy,” he whimpered, giving Blue an upside-down, traumatised stare.

“Oh my god, that is disgusting,” Blue snorted, sitting on Stretch’s bed and crossing his legs with a little shudder.  “Seriously though, can’t we wait a little until we can afford a house?  Renting would just take the money we could use for a down payment.”

“It’s going to take so loooong though,” Stretch groaned, pushing his sheet of calculations at Blue.  “See?  I did math and everything and right there, see…” he rolled over, circled one of the numbers and scrawled the word FOREVER next to it in large, bold letters.  “See?  It’s going to take forever.”

“It won’t take forever,” Blue scoffed giving his calculations a skeptical look.  “I can see if Alphys will hire me again.  They always need more royal guards–“

“Blue, please get the door to the bathroom,” Asgore called urgently from the hallway.  Stretch flinched, levity immediately dissolving into hesitant confusion as Blue's eyes widened, and he rushed out.

“Asgore?  What’s going on…?” he stepped into the hall, then trailed off, staring at the floor.  Dark, red splatters were smeared across the floor between the end of the hall and the bathroom.  Blue was standing off to one side, staring at something wrapped in Asgore’s blood-soaked arms.  At first, Stretch was convinced that Asgore had cut himself, or…or had a horrible gardening accident or something.

Then he saw Slim.

“Shhhh, it’s ok now,” Asgore murmured, cradling the shaking skeleton close.  “Just listen to my voice.  I’m here.  Stay with me now, you’re going to be ok…”

It took Stretch a second to realize that Slim was crying.  He wasn’t making any sound, but tears were pouring down his face and one hand was pressed tightly over his mouth and nose, like he was trying to smother himself.  Both of his arms were a terrifying mess of bleeding fissures, like someone had taken a knife and sliced his radii and ulnas down the center.  The bone was split in so many places that it was a wonder his arms hadn’t fallen apart.

“Blue, there are bandages in the kitchen.  Go get them,” Asgore said, trying to use a washcloth to keep the worst of Slim’s bleeding under control.  His hands were glowing a vibrant, healing green, but somehow, impossibly, it didn’t look like it was helping.  “Stretch.  Go help him.”

Stretch jumped, then bolted from the room, following Blue into the kitchen.  Blue was already digging through the first-aid kit, grabbing anything that looked even remotely bandage-like with trembling hands.

“Hold out your shirt,” Stretch said quickly.  Blue complied and Stretch quickly dumped the bandages into it.  “Holy shit, it looks like somebody tried to kill him.”

Blue gave him a frustrated sigh.  “No, he’s been doing that to himself.”

Stretch stared at him with uncomprehending shock.  “…what…?”

He didn’t get an answer.  Blue had already hurried out of the room.

 

**Slim, Day 25**

“Why do you keep helping me?”  Slim rasped as Asgore placed a steaming mug in front of him.

“Because I want to, and because you haven’t asked me not to,” Asgore replied gently, sitting nearby.  Slim pulled his mug close and gingerly closed his hands over it, not yet feeling up to the painful task of trying to lift it with his injured arms.

“What if I did ask you not to?”  Slim whispered, staring down at the table.  “Would you…?”

There was a long silence, broken only by birdsong and the soft creaks and groans as the house warmed.

“I wouldn’t want to,” Asgore finally said.  “I would want to see you overcome this.  I would want to help you in any way I could, and a large part of me would want to disregard your wishes on the matter.”

Asgore looked up, and his expression was very serious.  “But I cannot change you, and I would never force you to do something you did not want to do.  I can give you the space and support to make that decision, but it is your choice to accept it.  Or not.”

Another long silence.

“I’m just…so tired,” Slim whispered, feeling tears welling up in his eyesockets.  Again.

“I know,” Asgore replied.

“I don’t want to be a b-burden…”

“You are not.”

“I d-don’t deserve…”

“Shhhh…”

Asgore’s fur was absurdly soft and warm.  Slim felt like he should feel bad for crying on it as much as he had these past weeks, but feeling…anything, really, had been beyond him lately.

“You do deserve.  And in time, you will see.  I promise.”

 

**Stretch, Day 58**

One month down, one to go.  Blue had talked him into waiting at least six weeks until they got an apartment so they’d have some reserves to support themselves if something went wrong.  Stretch did agree with that on a logical level, but DID feel little irritated at having to come back to Asgore’s house every night to sleep and eat dinner.  Not that it was Asgore’s fault.  The old guy was _ridiculously_ kind and supportive.  He made them dinner every night, didn’t complain that Stretch’s room had very slowly deteriorated over the time he’d been living in it, and seemed to spend his every waking moment in a state of tranquil happiness that would have been annoying as hell if it hadn’t seemed so bafflingly genuine. 

No, it was the little things, like the cutesy prism in his window, Slim’s constant, silent presence, and the good-natured questions about where he was going, when he would be back, and whether he’d remembered to pack a lunch for work.  Reminders, maybe, that this wasn’t his house.  That Asgore’s rules, however benevolent, would always supersede his own. 

And Stretch was very tired of having to follow other people’s rules.

Stretch was almost to the front door when he heard a quiet rustle to his left.

“Gh-“ he squeaked, jumping a solid foot to his right.  “Fucking hell, don’t sneak up on me…” he trailed off as he saw Slim blinking sleepily in the sunlight.

“Sorry,” Slim yawned, then leaned back and closed his eyes.  Stretch stared uneasily at him, feeling steadily more and more awkward as the silence dragged on and Slim just...sat there.  With his eyes closed.  Was he seriously relaxing...?  Why did that seem so weird?

“Bandages,” he finally blurted, then mentally cursed himself for saying that aloud.

Slim opened his eyes.  “What?”

“Bandages.  They’re, uh…they’re gone,” he mumbled, pointing to Slim’s arms.

“Oh.”  Slim held up one of his forearms.  The slender bones were scored with livid, red-orange scars that were very obviously still trying to heal.  “Yes.”

Stretch stared at them, trying to put the memory of the broken, distressed monster being cradled in Asgore’s arms together with Slim sitting quietly outside the house on a sunny day, and the quiet, cold master who had been responsible for his life's most painful and degrading moments.  It was like they were three pieces from different puzzles that couldn't possibly fit together.

“Why didn’t they…I mean, when Asgore tried to heal them, didn't he try…?”  Stretch finally asked.  He immediately wished that he’d kept his mouth shut, and badly wanted to just walk into the house and leave the question hanging.  Forever.  Yes, forever sounded like enough time. 

Slim looked down at his arms again, then back up at Stretch.

“Why didn’t they heal when Asgore tried to heal them?” Slim repeated, flexing his fingers with an odd expression.  “Because I didn’t want them to, at the time.  And that was my choice.”

“Oh.”

That was definitely enough awkward for the next month.  Stretch was pretty sure he’d nodded stiffly and walked inside after that, but mercifully he already seemed to be repressing the memory. 

Sighing heavily, he locked the bedroom door and collapsed on his bed for a pre-dinner nap.  As he closed his eyes, he realized that that was probably the most normal conversation he’d ever had with Slim.  And the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed.  The person in his head that he (REALLY DIDN’T WANT TO) remember had been calm, in control, and yet always strangely aware of Stretch's physical limits.  True, he’d only been a slave for…what, three months?  But in that whole time, he’d never been seriously injured, not even intentionally.  Smacked, tied up, repeatedly violated, and generally degraded, yes.  But no broken bones, lasting bruises, or lingering soreness that had carried over for more than a day.  It had been one of very few things that Slim had stood up against Chara for.  They’d made him pay for it too…

It wasn’t until Blue was calling him for dinner that Stretch realized he’d spent his entire nap thinking instead of sleeping.  Frick.

 

**Slim, Day 60**

“Blue and Stretch offered to let me move in with them,” Slim told Asgore as they put the dishes away that evening.

“Did they?  Stretch as well?” Asgore asked with surprise.

Slim chuckled a little at that.  “He was there, and he didn’t say no?  He didn’t look very comfortable though.”

“I imagine so,” Asgore chuckled, stacking the plates neatly in a cupboard.  “And you?”

Slim hesitated.  “If it’s all right, I’d rather live with you.  For now, anyway.“

“You are welcome to stay with me for as long as you wish,” Asgore replied.  “And if you ever decide to leave, you are always welcome to return.  Unconditionally.”

“Thank you,” Slim choked with a smile.  “I…” he took a deep breath.  “It’s harder, when Stretch is around.  I keep wanting…I feel like I need to do things.  To keep Chara happy.  That or apologize?  Either way, I don’t feel…”

He trailed off, staring at a flower-patterned mug in his hands. 

“Stable?”  Asgore suggested.

“No.  Whatever the opposite of stressed is?  It makes it harder to stay out of the dark places.”  He tapped on his left temple, then gathered up a handful of mugs and put them in the cupboard.  "It feels like I've done something wrong, and I want to do something to make it better.  Even when I can't."

“I see.  I’m glad you can identify that,” Asgore told him.  “Perhaps this will be good for both of you then.”

Slim smiled to himself and began sorting spoons into the silverware drawer.  “I hope so.”

 

**Stretch, Day 65**

“I win,” Stretch groaned, then dropped prone into the middle of the floor with his arms and legs outstretched, as though he were trying to give the space a giant hug. 

“Brother, you are blocking the entire hallway,” Blue groused, trying to sound irritated as he laboriously stepped around his outstretched limbs.  “And I would like to get eight hours of sleep tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Sleep?  Now?  WHO NEEDS SLEEP??  THIS IS TIME FOR CELEBRATIONS!!” Stretch crowed, then snickered when Blue threw a pillow at his face.  Moving in had gone quickly, since neither of them had much furniture yet.  Just their beds (Stretch’s was queen-sized this time, THANK GOD) a couch, and the usual kitchen necessities.  It had barely taken an hour.

“This is the time for sleep, NOT celebrations.  Good night brother!” Blue called pointedly from his room, then firmly shut the door.

“BLOCK PARTY!”

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

Stretch cackled theatrically, looking happily over the new space.  Fresh start on everything, right down to the furniture.  Well, almost everything.  Blue had insisted on keeping that crystal prism from his bedroom, and Asgore (of course) had let him.  It was currently swaying on its string in the window over the kitchen sink.  In the morning Blue would spend a minute staring happily at the rainbows before going on with his morning chores, but for now, it was just an oddly-shaped piece of glass, barely visible against the darkened window. 

Thank god Slim hadn't actually accepted Blue's offer.  They still had an extra bedroom, but Stretch had already resolved to fill the space with junk as soon as possible.  Guests could sleep on the couch, which, of course, was very far away from his bed. Though if, stars forbid, Slim ever visited, Stretch would very conveniently have an appointment at the nearby hotel. For the entire day.

_For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.  For everything._

Stretch rolled over with a grunt, burying his face in the pillow Blue had thrown at him.  It was weird, now that he was thinking about it.  He hadn’t even asked Slim to apologize.  Hadn’t expected him to, come to think of it.  He just…had.

The memory still made a deep, ugly anger rise in Stretch’s chest, but it felt tempered now.  Sadness was mixed in, and maybe even a little empathy.  They’d both been in a shitty situation.  Slim had usually been the one making it shitty, but when Stretch really thought about it, he wasn’t sure Slim had been given a choice.  And what would Stretch have done, if their roles had been reversed...

He still remembered how scared and small Slim had looked, wrapped up in Asgore’s arms.  So deeply lost in some dark, lonely place that he’d come terrifyingly close to killing himself.  Despite everything Stretch had been through, he had never gotten that low.  And he knew better than to think he could imagine what it would be like.

Groaning to himself, Stretch stumbled to his feet and threw the pillow into his new bedroom.  Fuck it all, Slim couldn’t even be the bad guy so he could hate him properly.

Stretch sighed, turned off the light, and crawled into bed.  He had work in the morning, and as hilarious as it would be to actually throw a block party, he was moderately certain that Blue would literally murder him if he somehow made that happen. 

Oh well, he had time.

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW, this one got intense for me. Forgiveness is a tricky thing, and Stretch certainly won't ever forget what Slim did to him, or feel a certain amount of anger and betrayal over it. Either way, hope you like it insandcartoonnerd!
> 
> Curious about commissions? More info [here.](https://ravvi-k.tumblr.com/post/167932441348/supportcommission)


End file.
